


Set Me Free

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: By Secular Atrophy





	Set Me Free

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or backstory. There, are you happy you corporate lugs?? Yeah? Well you suck! Fanfic writers are better than you at spinning stories! 
> 
> ... 
> 
> *cough* 
> 
> Sex/ language/ violence: yes/ yes/ am I not predictable? Big fat yes. 
> 
> Subtext: I think you have me confused with someone else. 
> 
> AN: This is just a fantasy of mine. I thought Goddess of War was really onto something there with the story Warrior Prince. It's a beautiful idea. There's such an amazing contrast between your reaction when Xena is being mean to Ares and when their situations are reversed. They do everything for the exact same reasons, but it feels so different. This was supposed to by my version of what would happen. Unfortunately, I was utterly unable to portray Xena as the victim, so I sank into sarcasm. *gets down on knees* Please forgive me. If you don't get too caught up with the melodrama and cheesy imagery, it's pretty funny.

Xena nailed her throne with a sloppy kick. Cracks raced over the black marble finish before the entire thing collapsed into a pile of rubble.   
  
She swore. "I liked that one."   
  
She kicked a larger piece again, and it flew through the air, smashing a decorative urn.   
  
"Well, aren't you destructo girl today?"   
  
Oh, shit. She did not want to face her annoyingly perceptive sister today.   
  
"Go away, Aphrodite."   
  
"Sorry. No can do. Daddy wants to know what's wrong with his favourite daughter." A burst of pink bubbles, and jagged pieces of the throne jumped up and reassembled themselves.   
  
Maliciously, Xena blasted it into oblivion again.   
  
Aphrodite gasped, "You so did not do that! Daddy's going to be so pissed! He gave you that for your five hundredth birthday!"   
  
The raven-haired Goddess of War hissed softly between her teeth, "I know. Two years before his darling Athena cracked his skull open, and he forgot about the rest of us. Favourite daughter, my ass."   
  
The Goddess of Love reached out and spun her taller sister around, a penetrating look in her cornflower eyes.   
  
"What?" Xena's ice blue pools narrowed. People always found it strange that War and Love could be such good friends. Aphrodite was as blonde as Xena was dark. Aphrodite's classic beauty slammed the observer in the face, while Xena's striking perfection was more subtle. Given enough time, the disturbing perfection, intrigue, and innate sensuality would drag the viewer's gaze from even Aphrodite. When the two were together, everything tended to stop in its tracks and stay frozen. Zeus had forbidden them to attend chariot races together a long time ago. Even more different were their personalities. Aphrodite's soothing, cheerful sunniness was well loved on Olympus, but Xena's unpredictable violence and temper was to be avoided at all costs. They were perceived as light and dark, good and evil, yet still all gods and underlings had learned early on that to mess with Aphrodite was to suffer the wargoddess's terrible wrath.   
  
They would never tell anyone, but the wargoddess had been spiralling down a path of sheer evil that would have resulted in nothing but destruction, and only Aphrodite saw how lonely she'd been. Braving Xena's fury, Aphrodite had tried to save her, and though they had slipped farther and farther down, it had been enough. She held on long enough for Xena to find her saviour. To find him.   
  
Granted, the pigheaded goddess was still stuck on thinking that he'd betrayed her and that she was angry with him, but Aphrodite thought she was making progress.   
  
"What did he do this time?"   
  
Xena jerked away, growling audibly. "What do you think he did? I had a perfectly good campaign going there. The king of Hermia would have brought half a century of peace to the godsdamned little villages if he didn't just show up and kill the bastard."   
  
"The guy was torching the place—"   
  
The goddess of war gave her sister a displeased look. "You can't take away all my fun. Besides, they would have rebuilt a better village."   
  
"So what? You're saying that the ends justify the means?"   
  
"What? No, I'm saying sometimes you have to destroy the old to make room for the new."   
  
"Does he agree?"   
  
Xena's teeth gritted as she tried to find a suitable argument. A long, tense moment later, she stepped into the aether, radiating fury.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Mom!" Ares called, swinging himself from atop his palomino. He rubbed Argo's nose soothingly, promising a good rub-down and fresh oats.   
  
A short, slender woman stepped hurriedly from the inn, wiping her hands on a well-worn dishtowel. "Ares!" A brilliant smile lit her still beautiful face, framed by dark auburn curls. "Welcome home!" She embraced him fiercely before turning to hug his best friend and travelling companion, Joxer.   
  
Ares bit back a sigh, knowing that despite Joxer's inherent clumsiness, the two talkative friends would strike up some sort of immediate, engaging conversation and be entertained the entire time he would be taking care of Argo. Sometimes he was just the... least bit jealous. When he had to say something to piss someone off, or when he had to manipulate someone for some reason, he was quite adept. But when it came to casual conversation, he was in the middle of a labyrinth with no magical ball of twine.   
  
He picked up the reins and led Argo around to the stables.   
  
With quick, sure hands, he stripped the mare of her saddle and gear, setting to work with a soft bristled brush and cloth.   
  
"Sulking in the corners again, honey?"   
  
A rush of some strange warmth filled his chest before he viciously clamped it down. It was probably just because he didn't really want to be alone at this time. "What do you want?" Yeah. That was probably it.   
  
Xena had no idea as to what in tartarus she was doing. It had seemed logical to see what he was doing at the time. "Oh, I just wanted to congratulate you for destroying any future attempt at peace in Hermia."   
  
He glanced sharply at her. And immediately regretted it. Her raven hair feathered messily about her ivory face, hints of rose staining her cheeks. He could tell that the slight rouge wasn't applied on top as Aphrodite commonly liked to do. Surreal blue eyes framed by thick black lashes and pale pinks lips completed the look of charming innocence. A ruffled white blouse toned down her ample cleavage, and a long black skirt dropped off the soft curve of her hip and gently kissed the ground. Slender fingers were idly playing with the ribbons of the cream-coloured sash wound about her waist.   
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
The goddess smirked at his bewildered tone. "Thought I'd put up a bit of an effort, make a good impression on your mother. Do you like it?"   
  
"You are not meeting my mother." It was hard to sound threatening while her soft, parted lips looked so utterly enticing. Dark sapphire fire flickered in a brief flash of anger, and Ares couldn't help but let his tongue quickly wet his lips.   
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Because you're evil." He mentally slapped himself for the lame rebuttal.   
  
A genuine smile flitted briefly over her lips. "You like evil," she drawled. "It turns you on."   
  
"You're sick."   
  
"You like sick, too," she whispered right by his ear, far too close, before picking up another brush to work on Argo's other flank.   
  
Considering that she was the one who had taught him all about the proper care of a horse, particularly a warhorse, he wasn't surprised at her deft expertise. It was just that he'd never seen her do something so... mortal. No, he corrected himself, not mortal. Human.   
  
She didn't seem to be holding a grudge, considering that last time she'd shown up, he stuck a sword into her.   
  
Argo twisted her long neck to look at the new man-shape that was rubbing her side so comfortably with a pleased nicker. Quickly recognizing the goddess, she nudged Xena's side in welcome.   
  
Although the corners of her mouth merely quirked for a heartbeat, Ares saw the smile in her eyes. She continued working, a soft hum beginning in her throat. He recognized the distinct melody with a slight choke. The bawdy words, certainly not deserving of being called lyrics, were not fit for any child's ear, or any civilian, for that matter.   
  
Her teasing gaze met his.   
  
"My mother had better not hear—"   
  
"Cross my heart and hope to... er..."   
  
"How old are you, anyway?"   
  
"Don't know. I stopped counting at around three thousand four hundred."   
  
"That was rhetorical."   
  
"Argo seems to like the tune."   
  
There was a brief pause, and they both started humming the army ballad at the same time, their soft voices blending perfectly.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joxer saw them walk into the tavern first, and his jaw dropped to the floor.   
  
"Mom? This is an old... friend."   
  
Xena extended her arm, "My name is Xena."   
  
To her visible shock, Cyrene pulled her into a friendly hug. "Any friend of my son is always welcome here. I'll put you in the room next to Ares's. It's got a great view of the town; you can see from one end to the other. Come," she began to lead the tall goddess toward the steps that led to the second level, and stopped in her tracks, "di—did you say Xena?"   
  
Xena looked pointedly at Ares. Your call.   
  
"Yeah. Goddess of war. My patron," the warrior shifted uncomfortably at the dumbstruck stares of the nearby customers.   
  
"Goddess of war?" Cyrene repeated quietly.   
  
Xena waved, "That would be me."   
  
To her utter confusion, Cyrene began circling her, eyes narrowed in deadly scrutiny. Xena had the feeling that she was going to be deep shit if she didn't pass this test. She stood at attention, back straight, eyes forward, feeling like a new recruit before her drill sergeant.   
  
"Well, this has never happened before," she commented with forced casualness.   
  
"Goddess."   
  
"Xena is fine, ma'am."   
  
"How are you at bussing tables, Xena?"   
  
"I don't, but I'm a fast learner, ma'am."   
  
"Why are you here?"   
  
"My Chosen is very important to me, ma'am."   
  
Cyrene stopped, frowning up into startlingly similar blue eyes. "Gods, child, what do they feed you up there? You're thin as a twig."   
  
"Ma—what?"   
  
A low snicker sounded, and Xena glanced at Joxer, an icy shutter slamming down around her. "Laugh," she said, deadly soft, "and die." The gangly man gulped.   
  
"There will be no violence in this inn," Cyrene cut in. "Ares will show you to your room."   
  
"Thank you. And I must say, ma'am," a sudden smile left every man in the room rubbing their thighs together surreptitiously, "it's a pleasure to meet you."   
  
When they were out of earshot, Cyrene smiled. "What a nice girl."   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When Xena made her way silently down the stairs the next morning, before daybreak, Cyrene was already in the kitchen.   
  
"Good morning."   
  
The goddess froze. "Uh, morning." She stood by the steps, debating whether or not to give in to her curiosity. She gave. "How did you know I was here?"   
  
Cyrene turned with a knowing smile. "You move just like my son." She gestured toward a long table laden with food. "Sit down and have breakfast."   
  
"I don't need to—"   
  
"You do now."   
  
Xena sat with a small grin, "You're an amazing woman, Cyrene."   
  
"No, I'm just a mother."   
  
"But my mother never..." without meaning to, she trailed off, remembering the time she had spent with Hera. Hera had been the best mother she could, but some things she just didn't understand. Hera had taught her eldest daughter and heir how to gain and hold power, how to survive amongst conniving, petty gods, and how to be strong, but never had she shown her how to care about anyone. In fact, Hera had once told her never to fall in love. Men are all pigs. You let one tie you down or make you care, and he'll destroy you. Xena had promised never to love a man, but... why was Ares so different from any man she'd ever known?   
  
"Then it's about time you had a mother."   
  
Ares stopped at the foot of the stairs. She was back in her usual black, tight leather pants with the strange, straight cut that let her pull them over her heavy black boots. Her trademark black tunic clung to her every curve, baring her muscled abdomen and arms, and her scabbard hung down her back. A bowl of apple cinnamon porridge was placed before her, and, as he watched, the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick a sweet drop from her wooden spoon.   
  
Oh, gods. Callisto. Callisto killing Perdican, Joxer's poor wife. Callisto naked. Callisto fucking Joxer. Callisto fucking Xena. OH SHIT. You will go down!   
  
Xena turned to look at him with a puzzled frown, and he slid into a seat in record time, careful to hide... his lower parts from her.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
"What? Nothing."   
  
"I can hear you panicking from over here."   
  
"It's nothing."   
  
"Fine. See if I give a damn." Xena swallowed another spoonful of the mush. Mortals liked to eat really strange things.   
  
Ares ate his bowl silently.   
  
"So, what do you people do around here? Anyone you need me to hurt?"   
  
Ares glowered over the table, "We don't do that around here. Some people aren't violent, spiteful bitches."   
  
"Ares!"   
  
"No, it's quite alright, Cyrene," Xena leaned back in her chair, balancing expertly on the two back legs. "Do tell, pet, what do those people who aren't violent, spiteful bitches do these days?" A mocking smirk teased her lips.   
  
With a low growl, Ares kicked under the table. He'd always had very good aim.   
  
Her chair tipped over backward, and Xena crashed to the floor with a small grunt.   
  
"Ares, apologize right now!"   
  
Xena picked herself up and straightened the chair. "It's alright. I never get hurt or anything."   
  
"Ares."   
  
"Sorry," he mumbled, finishing his porridge and standing. "I'll be back in a bit, mom." He strode swiftly out the door. At least the boner had gone away on its own.   
  
Xena popped a grape into her mouth, "Thanks for breakfast, Cyrene. It was delicious."   
  
Cyrene nodded at the goddess as she followed the Warrior Prince out the door.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ares unsheathed his blade, thankful that the square was still deserted. The pale pink dawn cast a soft glow on the buildings, but the shadows were still heavy.   
  
Pivoting, he swung, and metal clashed noisily. Before he could try again, she knocked his sword to the ground with a quick flick of her wrist. She dropped her weapon, and they practiced handwork, picking up speed as they worked through complicated routines. Side. Sweep. Double jab. Weave. Down for ten things that he'd come to call "pushupwards".   
  
They moved in tandem, a silent rhythm to their dance. Finally, each routine finished, they jogged around the square, no sound but his heavier breathing cutting through the air. She never got out of breath. Slowing to a walk, and then a stop, they stretched. He noticed with a shock that he was taller than she was.   
  
When he had first left home after the death of Lyceus, he'd been nearly her height, and a virgin. It wasn't that the girls in Amphipolis didn't want him. He'd simply been too busy with the inn, his brothers, and his secret swordplay. He'd stolen a sword from her temple when he was fourteen. When she came to him after Cortese, she took one look at the sword he held, and burst out laughing. She remembered him, she said. He was the little boy who snuck into her temple. She told him that he'd filled out nicely. He could remember looking up at her, and wishing that he could touch her. He wanted to touch her everywhere. She didn't stop him. She rode him gently that one time, just before she made him leave on that pirate ship. She was so soft and warm and beautiful, easing him past young reservations. It had been perfect.   
  
Though she'd offered after that, more than once, he'd never taken her. He'd screwed many others, and he knew that he was good enough for her, but he didn't want her. He couldn't afford to want her. As long as he didn't care, he was safe. A god would only play with him before discarding him, leaving him with nothing but a shredded heart. He knew gods; they never learned to care.   
  
He'd never realized how small she actually was. She wasn't even half his size. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was... delicate.   
  
She brought the thick straw mat upright, facing forward, and he reacted immediately with a forward kick. She barely jerked. Like fuck she was delicate.   
  
Side. He kicked it. She turned the mat sideways, in the "off" position, and they circled in perpetual motion. Upright, high. Kick. Upright side. Roundhouse. High. Kick. Back and circle.   
  
After a while she began to incorporate punches into the exercise, shouting out the expected move.   
  
They moved like water, flowing around each other.   
  
They'd drawn quite a crowd.   
  
Suddenly she brought the mat into the side position, and called, "Hook!"   
  
He kicked it.   
  
"Good!"   
  
He focused on the mat, concentrating to block out the debilitating shouted orders. Focus. She lived, breathed, and ate focus.   
  
He was getting tired. She feinted right, and he stepped into it. His kick connected with her side, and she reeled, toppling over.   
  
"Shit, you move fast!" she laughed, lying on the ground. Ares shrugged, knowing that she'd let him hit her. Bracing against a nearby oak, he stretched, and she spotted him.   
  
He picked up their weapons and waited for her to jump down out of the tree before heading into the tavern. There was some scattered applause.   
  
Cyrene sighed. Ares could be so unreasonable sometimes.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cyrene gave Xena the rest of the day off after the morning shift. She nearly tripped over Hera as she walked into her Halls of War on Olympus.   
  
"What were you doing?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"You missed our appointment."   
  
"We never do anything on our 'appointments' anyway. I was with my Chosen."   
  
Hera gave her daughter a sharp look. "That man. Ares, is it?"   
  
"Yeah. Why?"   
  
"How many times have I told you to never fall in lov—"   
  
"What the fuck are you talking about? He's my Chosen! That's all!"   
  
"That's all?" The queen of the gods seated herself in her daughter's throne.   
  
"Yes," Xena nearly snarled.   
  
"Then why haven't you killed him?"   
  
"What?" The question was nothing but a whisper.   
  
"He broke his oath and left your side. Tradition states that you kill him."   
  
"No."   
  
"You kill him to make way for a faithful follower."   
  
"No!"   
  
"Why?"   
  
Xena sputtered, "He's the best warrior I've ever seen! I can't just go and kill him for some personal vendetta!"   
  
"You can't? No. You mean you won't."   
  
"I can't. I swore to never hurt him. He's been loyal for so many years that I owe him that respect."   
  
"You won't kill him."   
  
"No. I don't care if he's sleeping with Athena. I won't kill him."   
  
"Then I will."   
  
"What?" The wargoddess was beginning to feel like she was set on repeat. "Why? This isn't any of your business."   
  
Hera's cool gaze never wavered. "I am your mother. Everything I do is for your best interest." She shook her auburn head ruefully. "Xena, daughter, you are the future of this family. You will be king after your father. You cannot afford to be shackled down."   
  
"You will not go anywhere near him!"   
  
"Why? He's just a chosen, a mortal. Why do you care?"   
  
Xena was beyond exasperation. "Because I care about him, you bitch! Why is that so hard to understand? He's a good person!"   
  
"You will not take that tone with me, Xena," Hera was white with anger. "He is not a person. If you care about him, that is doubly reason to destroy him." She paused, and offered the furious girl an old, old smile, broken and dusty with disuse. "You're my daughter, Xena. Everything I do is so you can have the best, so you can have everything that I couldn't."   
  
"Oh, so it's for the best? You're killing someone I'm rather fond of for my own fucking good?" Xena stood, a suspicious shimmer in her pale eyes, "If you hurt him, I will destroy you. I will hunt you and I will tear you to pieces. You know I can. You taught me."   
  
Hera smiled tightly, "Then you'd better start now."   
  
Xena sucked in a quick breath, and hauled ass.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ares turned from a table after setting down a couple of mugs of ale, only to see a brilliant green bolt of something heading straight toward him. Then there was a flurry of black, and Xena slammed into a table, splintering it. Green sparks raced over her skin, and her face contorted in discomfort.   
  
Half a dozen creatures with tons of eyes suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and one tried to stab him with a long spear.   
  
"What the fuck?" Ares ducked and rolled. "What did you do this time?"   
  
He watched in shock as the goddess of war launched herself at the creatures, blue flame crackling about her. She was nothing but a shadow as she systematically struck down each monster. She fought like a demon, the only evidence of her blows was the way the things clutched at various body parts.   
  
"Shit," Ares whispered as he saw her get knocked to the ground. Those things were strong. She twisted, her momentum actually causing her to fly up into the air, and kicked. There was a sickening ripping noise, and a creature's head tore off of its body, spraying green blood over the walls.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Ares plunged into the fray, fighting dirty as he made his way to his goddess' side. She beheaded another one of the creatures, and Ares tackled her, a spear barely skimming her long black hair. She rolled away from him, snatching up the discarded weapon of one of the deader things and whipping it toward him. It sank into the creature that was trying to stick him, and it fell to the ground, hopefully dead. He stole its spear before it hit the ground, and battered at another monster. With her free hand, Xena flung a bolt of power at one, and it exploded in a shower of green gunk.   
  
"Oh," she kicked a thrusting spear off course and it tore straight through one of the monster's neck, and manoeuvred until they were back to back. "Fun."   
  
She caught a spear as it tried to skewer her, and sent a charge of pure energy down the shaft. The creature's hands, or whatever it was that they had that passed for hands, melted before it blew up.   
  
There was one left. Out of the corner of her eye, Xena saw Ares's spear clatter to the ground. She grabbed his arm and managed to swing them around so that she was facing the thing and he was behind her. Its spear sank through her breastbone and into her chest. After the momentary shock, something white hot and terrible blazed through her body. Was this pain?   
  
Ares caught her as she fell against him, her retrieved sword in his hand. His left arm around her, he swung.   
  
It was a horrible excuse for a sword strike, but the sheer strength behind it removed the thing's head, green slime spraying the two warriors.   
  
Ares sank to the ground, swearing steadily. "Xena. Hey. Gods, don't do this. Xena!"   
  
"Shut up!" The goddess snarled, gasping at the sensation. "Get it out!"   
  
"What?"   
  
"The godsdamned spear, you asshole, get it out!"   
  
He studied it for a fraction of a moment. There was no other way. He grasped the shaft in one hand, wrapped the other around her shoulders, and yanked.   
  
She cried out softly, her hand over her mouth.   
  
There was no blood, but he could see fragmented bone in the gaping wound. "Sorry," he whispered, getting to his knees. Sliding his arms under her as he stood, he picked her up. So light.   
  
Cyrene followed them as he carried her to her room.   
  
"What were those?"   
  
"Hera's hundred-eyed guard dogs."   
  
"What do they want?"   
  
Xena gave him an incredulous look. "What do you think they want? You've just made Hera's hit list."   
  
He set her down on the bed gently and straightened.   
  
"Don't go!" the goddess suddenly grabbed his wrist. When he looked at her questioningly, she shook her head. "I can't protect you if I can't see you."   
  
"Right." He suddenly studied her wound. "Are you bleeding?"   
  
Xena looked down. Tiny drops of red were welling up, as if the wound was weeping. It was getting faster.   
  
"Shit shit shit shit. Where's my sword?"   
  
"Uh. Downstairs?"   
  
"Get it. Please. I'm mortal without it."   
  
Cyrene gasped sharply, and tore out of the room.   
  
She quickly returned, and Xena slid the sword into its scabbard. There was a faint blue glow, and both weapon and sheath faded away into nothing. At Cyrene's bewildered gaze, Xena explained that she'd put it away. The drops of red seemed to evaporate into nothing, and bone and flesh shifted in the wound, knitting itself together. In no time, her skin was smooth and unblemished.   
  
"Are you going to be alright?"   
  
The goddess smirked. "Why, sweetheart, you almost seem to care."   
  
Ares bit his lip, "I do care." He quickly averted his gaze when Xena's eyes shot toward him.   
  
"I'll be fine," she spoke softly. "Just a bit of rest, and I'll be good as new."   
  
The Warrior Prince nodded, exchanging a worried look with his mother before clambering into the bed beside the goddess.   
  
"What are you—"   
  
"Shh. Rest."   
  
Xena subsided, watching Cyrene slip out of the room.   
  
His breathing was steady and soothing by her ear. She twisted to look at him. His chocolate eyes met hers, so warm. No matter what happened to him, his eyes never changed, not even when she'd switched his body with that of his nemesis, Caesar. His touch, his gaze, so warm and passionate. Everything about him suggested passion, from the sharp angles of his cheekbones to the lush fullness of his lips. Even facing the power-crazed wannabe empress of Rome, Callisto, he never lost that depth of passion. There was something else in those brown eyes now, though. Something she'd never seen displayed before her.   
  
"You're afraid, aren't you?"   
  
Ares blinked, "What?"   
  
"You're afraid of this. Of finding out that I can be hurt and die. I'm your constant. No matter what happens around you, I will come back again and again to try to convince you to come back to me. Now you find out that that's not certain, that I am not forever, and that frightens you. It's like having to face loss for the first time all over again."   
  
He shook his head, his eyes tightly shut. "No. I don't care what happens to you."   
  
"You used to be a much better liar."   
  
His strong arm snaked around her slim waist, pulling her snug against his body, "You'll be forever. I'll never lose you."   
  
Xena sighed softly, breathing in the warm masculinity of his scent. "I hope you outlive me, Aer," she said drowsily.   
  
He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. She hadn't called him that in a long time.   
  
He had no idea what she was talking about.   
  
"I hope I don't, my Lord."   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He woke late that night with an empty feeling. Xena was gone.   
  
He got up off of the bed reluctantly, and was suddenly struck with the knowledge that something was missing. He looked back at the rumpled sheets. Warmth. That was missing. Warm sheets.   
  
Warm sheets scented with cool, sweet water and the hint of peaches.   
  
Her scent.   
  
He headed toward the door, wondering if he'd find her downstairs.   
  
A familiar blue blaze threw stark shadows upon the floorboards.   
  
"Where do you think you're going?"   
  
Ares swung around, an unbidden smile touching his lips before he caught himself.   
  
She reached up, pulling something over his head and tucking it into his leather vest. He caught a glimpse of the pendant as it glittered in the weak moonlight. Two snakes, entertwined.   
  
"Promise me you won't take it off until this is over."   
  
"I promise."   
  
"Promise me."   
  
"I promise. I promise. I promise. I say it once, I say it twice, I say it thrice, and that makes it true."   
  
The childhood adage had been a favourite of Ares and Lyceus. He'd always used it whenever he wanted to really convince his mentor that something was true.   
  
She loosely tucked him into the bed again, and as he watched, confused, she took a seat at the foot of the bed.   
  
"Aren't you going to sleep?"   
  
She blinked, genuine surprise flitting across her face. "Sleep?" she repeated. "I don't understand."   
  
"You know? When people lie down and rest so that their bodies can replenish their strength?"   
  
"I know what sleeping is," she grunted.   
  
Ares carefully kept a straight face, struck by the absurdity of the situation. "That's nice; ever tried it?"   
  
"Yes, smartass, but I don't need sleep right now. Now rest, and stop bothering me."   
  
The Warrior Prince stared at her for a long moment, gnawing on the inside of his lip, before he deliberately slid out of bed and strolled over to plant a short kiss on her cheek. He grinned at her violated glare and leaned in closer, forcing her to inch back onto the bed. Averting his eyes briefly, he murmured, "I'd rather have you there beside me."   
  
Xena's jaw dropped. "What?"   
  
Gods, so beautiful. If he just pushed her tunic to the side, he could--what the hell did he think he was doing? She was messing with his head again. He twisted to a side and shoved her off of the bed. "I said get out of my room."   
  
She glared at him from her seat on the floor, and slid into the aether with a muttered profanity.   
  
Ares laid down, shutting out the vague realization that she hadn't been doing anything. He would have felt it.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Halls of War materialized around Xena.   
  
The little bastard. He'd obviously wanted her. Unbidden, the sensation of hot skin sliding against hers and an incredibly fullness she'd never felt before and could never find again, no matter who she fucked, hit her so strongly that she couldn't suppress the shiver that slid down her spine.   
  
A nearly perfect warrior and a spectacular lay. So why the fuck couldn't she have him?   
  
A halo of golden curls entered her field of view, framing Aphrodite's sweet smile. "Poor sis. You want me to go talk to him?"   
  
Xena snarled, flopping down onto her enormous bed and burying her face in the heavy silk sheets.   
  
A light hand on her hip made her roll onto her back, and Aphrodite deftly undid the hooks on her leather pants. Sliding the supple material down Xena's hips, Aphrodite placed a light kiss on her flat belly. A shudder of pleasure caused Xena to take in an unnecessary breath when the Love Goddess's warm tongue skipped lightly across her clit and slipped through her wet folds.   
  
Xena pushed her sister off and quickly refastened her pants. "Thanks, Aphrodite, but not now."   
  
Aphrodite's smile held far too much understanding for Xena's liking. "The warrior babe doesn't know what he's missing," she declared before blowing a kiss and vanishing in a shower of glitter.   
  
Xena looked down at the floor irritably, eyeing the golden specks embedded in the black throw rug. Those were never going to come out.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It wasn't anywhere near dawn when Ares rolled out of bed, snatching up his sword. Hurtling out of the window, he hit the ground running before he skidded to a halt.   
  
"Oh. Shit."   
  
Spears, banners and armoured forms brimmed along the rolling hills surrounding Amphipolis.   
  
In no way could so many troops have appeared so quickly without godly intervention. Ares did a quick mental count. There were too many. The village would be flattened, unless...   
  
"Xena."   
  
The Goddess of War appeared, a bright, faintly predatory smile upon her lips. "Do I hear someone call my name? Oh, I wonder who it could be? Tell me, my Chosen one, did you hear someone call my name?"   
  
"Cut the crap."   
  
The smile vaporized. "I wouldn't take that tone, man. I'm not the one who called for your help." Xena tugged stiffly at her tunic and crossed sleekly muscled arms under her breasts. "What do you want now?"   
  
Ares swore under his breath, eyeing the infuriating goddess. "You can see the army as well as I can. Joxer's not much help in the physical combat department."   
  
"So?"   
  
Ares glared, knowing that she was pretending incomprehension. "So I need to get rid of the army before it destroys my village."   
  
"What does that have to do with me?"   
  
"You're the godsdamned god of war. Do something."   
  
"No."   
  
Ares's dark eye twitched as all that was familiar slid out of his grasp. "What?" She usually jumped at the chance to have him owe her a favour.   
  
"I can't. Those are Hera's followers. If I mess with them, Zeus will murder me."   
  
"Xena, my family..."   
  
Xena turned her gaze to the banners. "Cyrene's a nice lady," she muttered softly.   
  
Ares could tell that she was wavering. "Please."   
  
The wargoddess shifted uncomfortably. "I can't interfere personally," she maintained, "the best I can offer is my army, and even then, I'm going to get shit from my parents."   
  
Ares's dark eyes blazed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me, leading your army again after all these seasons."   
  
A condescending smirk took up residence on Xena's face. "Recall that you asked me for help, dear. Now, I could just as easily retract my offer. To be honest, I was planning on giving Zeus a wide berth, considering that I just took that protective amulet you're wearing from his private and very well guarded rooms."   
  
Ares glanced down at the leather strap visible above the neck of his tunic. He took hold of it and began pulling the pendant from under his shirt. "Fine, I'll give it back, then—"   
  
Xena's hand was suddenly encasing his wrist in an implacable hold. "You promised."   
  
Meeting her ice-like gaze, Ares found himself obediently letting the amulet drop. She moved away, and he was furious that he had blindly followed her orders. When he could think again, that is.   
  
"So?"   
  
Ares stared at his goddess' tall, arrogant, scabbard-covered back resentfully. "Fine."   
  
"What do you say?"   
  
He seethed at the bitch's tone. "Thank you—"   
  
He stepped right up to her and pushed his belt dagger right through her chest. "—my dear Lord."   
  
Xena grinned, pleased by her Chosen's utter boldness. "Temper, my Prince," she admonished mock-severely, and faded from view.   
  
  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ares suppressed an irritated growl. True to her word, Xena had delivered the army. They were gifted warriors, remarkable well-trained, and intensely loyal. And each man to whom Ares had spoken had a story to tell about the Goddess of War. No matter how the story started, it always came down to her prowess in bed. She was a jungle cat, according to some, and a sultry demoness, according to others. Ares' head spun. He was not jealous.   
  
Strong hands touched his shoulders and massaged the tension from them.   
  
Ares shrugged the hands off, something that suspiciously resembled a pout on his lips. "Shouldn't you be charming the pants off all your warriors out there?"   
  
"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?"   
  
"I'm sure that's what your overblown ego would love to believe."   
  
Xena came around to face him, giving him an infuriatingly indulgent smile. "So why did you ask?"   
  
He stared at her. Her impossibly blue eyes reflected gold firelight and glittered with merriment, but the glow could never hide the wild hint of blood, of clashing swords, of victory and glory. It drew him in like a moth, igniting his blood so that it swept through his veins, bringing the euphoria that only war could provide. The intense heat pooled in his face, his skin... his groin.   
  
"Ah... There it is. How I've missed the darkness inside you."   
  
"Sex is not darkness."   
  
"My dear boy, for us, sex is always darkness. It's a battle. It's living, it's fighting, and it's dying." She cocked her head. "The way you want me is darkness."   
  
Ares sneered. "I wouldn't want you if you were the last woman on the planet."   
  
"Really? And I suppose that's just your body stiffening hatefully at my proximity?" Her gaze fell pointedly.   
  
Dammit! He'd hoped that she wouldn't notice. He turned his back and adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, and she laughed. The bitch actually laughed.   
  
"Modesty doesn't become you, Ares."   
  
"Fuck off, Xena."   
  
"Thought you'd never ask."   
  
Her arms slid around his waist, one hand slipping into his vest, and one reaching for his belt.   
  
He spun around, landing a solid backhand to her jaw. "I meant it, Xena. If you're looking for a whore, I'm sure the entire population within ten kilometres would be more than happy to service you."   
  
She stepped quickly into the aether, but not before Ares caught the hurt in her eyes. Staring at the empty space in which she had stood, he dismissed it as his imagination.   
  


To Be Continued


End file.
